


Head Start

by methylviolet10b



Series: Camera Obscura [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Prompt Fic, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2017, canon-typical coincidences and physics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Sally hoped she wasn't making a mistake. Written for JWP #31.





	Head Start

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: I've never been to the RHS offices. This is a continuation (and possibly conclusion) of Camera Obscura, Unlucky Number, Another Angle, The Job, Prerogative, The Enemy of My Enemy (Is Still A Freak), Calling Card, Well Begun, Take a Flyer, Hand Made, and Fog of War. If you haven't read those, this might not make much sense. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Author's Notes: Written for JWP 2017 #31: Improvised Tools. The last time we had this prompt, [there were drag queens](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4411511).

The woman behind the desk – whose nametag proclaimed her to be “Jane”, and whose knitwear clearly did not belong to her – shifted her attention to the newest arrival, heralded by that old-fashioned shop bell.  
  
Sally did not turn to look. She kept her attention firmly riveted to “Jane” even as a loud, surprisingly diffident voice spoke up in an unmistakably American accent. “Oh, excuse me – is this the Royal Horticulture Society office? I’m looking for some information I need for a college paper. I was hoping you could help me out.”  
  
Sally saw the moment “Jane” decided she’d have to deal with the inconvenient American. She took a step forward, to come out from behind the desk. Just one step.  
  
A step Sally matched perfectly, followed up with the best head-butt she could manage.  
  
As possible attacks went, it wasn’t one Sally generally favoured, no matter how fond she was of the uncle who taught it to her. (Her knitting uncle, as it happened; he was a man of many talents.)  It hurt, for one thing; it was unpredictable; and it meant getting in absolutely close proximity with a combatant. And adding glasses frames just made it worse. As an attack with plausible deniability as a simple collision, however, it had few equals.  
  
Her strike was true. Sally felt it, knew the pain reverberating through her head was the right kind of pain, saw it in the way “Jane” staggered back, expression blank, before she crumpled to the carpet, glasses falling away to lie beside her.  
  
“Ow, ow, oh my God, are you all right?” Sally said anyway, just in case she’d made a mistake, even as she rushed to help “Jane” stay down.  
  
“I sincerely hope not,” a quite different, utterly familiar voice sounded in her ears.  The gangly teenager she’d spotted earlier knelt down next to her, effectively pinning Jane’s legs with one denim-clad knee. Dark hoodie, worn denims, shock of white-blond hair peeping out from beneath the hood – yet it was unmistakably Sherlock Holmes who crouched over their suspect.  “John’s going to be very sorry he missed seeing you in action,” he added. “That was impressive.”  
  
There were so many things demanding to be said, Sally couldn’t decide where to start. One just popped out. “Wig?” she asked.  
  
“False front.” Sherlock shook blond strands away from his eyes. “Annoying, but quick and effective. And cheap as it was, it’s still far better than the silver atrocity he’s wearing.”  
  
Sally looked down at the prone figure just now starting to stir. “Him? I knew that cardi didn’t fit right.”  
  
Sherlock grinned. “Well spotted, Sergeant. I expect it belongs to one of the people trapped in the back room.” His smile vanished as if it had never been. “I believe he hasn’t been here long enough to kill them, not in his usual manner, anyway. That sort of thing takes time.”  
  
She stifled the instinctive urge to go and check for civilians, to find and succor victims, and instead fished out a pair of handcuffs from her coat pocket. “I’d appreciate it if you’d go see,” she said honestly. Unspoken was her determination not to leave Sherlock Holmes alone with a suspect in custody, much less one who’d managed to hurt John Watson. “I’d best call for backup.”  
  
Holmes stared at her, then rose to his feet with fluid grace and started for the back room before glancing back.  “I sent a text five minutes ago. They’re late. At least they remembered not to use sirens.”  
  
Almost on cue, Sally heard hurrying feet and the distinctive sound of police radios.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 31, 2017.


End file.
